


To Last a Lifetime

by ForForever19



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst and Romance, F/F, Faberry, Implied/Referenced Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 12:22:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19229065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForForever19/pseuds/ForForever19
Summary: '"Is this the moment?" Santana asks. "Is this when you realise you're in love with her?"' - 60 moments Rachel falls in love with Quinn.





	To Last a Lifetime

Disclaimer: I, by no means, claim to own anything remotely related to the Glee Universe. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

**To Last a Lifetime**

* * *

"Is this it then?"

Rachel Berry lifts her gaze from where she's been staring intently at Quinn's bruised face. Her own heart hasn't managed to slow to a normal pace since they received the phone call that there was an accident.

Quinn wasn't coming.

Quinn wasn't on her way.

Rachel has never felt so horrified, terrified and relieved all at once.

She clears her throat. "Hmm?"

Santana moves further into Quinn's hospital room and drops into the chair on the other side of Quinn's bed. She looks exhausted, weary to her very bones. "Is this the moment?" she asks. "Is this when you realise you're in love with her?"

Rachel blinks slowly, the only indication that she's heard anything Santana has said.

"Did she have to get into an accident for you to figure it out, huh?" she questions, and she sounds angry. "Did she have to almost die for you to quit your fucking crisis and realise it's been her all along?"

Rachel doesn't say anything, because she hasn't said anything since her own phone slipped from her hand at the confirmation that, yes, there had been an accident, and, yes, a Quinn Fabray had been brought into the Emergency Room.

People have tried to get her to talk, but nobody has been successful.

Until now.

"No."

Santana's gaze snaps up, startled. She wasn't expecting a response, and she doesn't know how she's supposed to respond.

"This isn't the moment," Rachel continues. "I've always known."

"What?"

Rachel meets her gaze, steady and sure. "I've been falling in love with her since the moment we met."

Santana really has no idea what to say to that, because it's the last thing she's expecting to hear.

Rachel shifts her gaze back to Quinn's face. She looks so peaceful, discoloured as her pale skin is. It's uncanny, that she's still beautiful like this. It's maybe in her stillness. She hasn't moved at all - not even a twitch - and Rachel acknowledges that there's always been something very still about Quinn.

No unnecessary movements. Nothing rushed. She doesn't speak too loud or make a spectacle of herself.

She's just still.

It's something Rachel has noticed. It's something she loves about Quinn. Because she does. Love her. She's not lying about that part.

She's been falling more and more in love with Quinn every day, a culmination of defining moments over the last three and a half years that Rachel realises she can no longer ignore.

Maybe this is the moment, after all.

 

* * *

 

_1 - Explosion_

When the ticking time bomb that is Quinn Fabray goes off, Rachel is standing in the blast zone, watching in horror and distinctly something else as Quinn Fabray, former Head Cheerleader and All-American girl, swaggers down the school corridor, dressed in all-black, fishnet stockings, pierced to the nines and sporting bright pink hair.

Rachel can't take her eyes off her - much like everyone else - but she's the only person who gets a saucy wink in response, which leaves her buried in debris, gaping wounds bleeding everywhere. This particular explosion isn't going to leave her unharmed, and they both know it.

 

_2 - Raw_

At lunch in the cafeteria some time in their sophomore year, Quinn takes out a zip top bag of uncooked carrot sticks as well as a book, and slips down in her chair to read in complete silence. Rachel's noticed she does this often, carefully slipping into her own little world and ignoring all the stares and murmurs that follow and surround her. Rachel wishes she wouldn't have to, but there's a rounded stomach that she can't escape, and there's nothing to be done about it now.

Breathing a sigh, Rachel tilts her head to get a look at the book's name, smiling to herself at the words _Alice in Wonderland_ , and then snapping to attention when Quinn bites into a carrot, the crunching sound forcing her spine straight.

It's then that she notices Quinn is looking at her, a slight smirk on her face, and Rachel ducks her head, fighting off a blush at having been caught. She wants to ask about the book, but she holds her tongue.

She thinks she's said more than enough.

 

_3 - Satisfy_

For the most part, Quinn doesn't usually indulge in foods that are inherently not considered healthy. It's especially apparent when the Glee Club goes for celebratory pizza after their Sectionals' win in their junior year and, while others goad Quinn into eating the greasy pizza, Rachel seems to be the only one who notices just how uncomfortable she is with all the attention people are paying to her food.

From across the table, Rachel waits until the group's collective attention has turned to Artie before she slides her side plate towards Quinn, where she's removed the cherry tomatoes, feta, green bell peppers and raw onion from her own salad - just because a salad is the only thing she can eat in his place, doesn't mean she actually likes all the ingredients involved.

Quinn looks up, surprised, and Rachel offers her a sheepish smile. It takes a moment for Quinn to accept her offering, smiling appreciatively, but she eventually pokes a half cherry tomato with her fork and brings it up to her lips. Rachel feels immensely proud of herself the moment Quinn's face settles into a satisfied little smirk, and she would pat her own back if it wouldn't be so weird.

 

_4 - Knife_

There are marks on Quinn's left wrist that Rachel sees only because of a culmination of a handful of singular events, in early January of their senior year. First, Quinn forgets to put on her watch after her morning shower, and then she wears a sweater with sleeves that insist on riding up whenever she moves her arms any which way. Sometimes, Quinn forgets they're there, but she tenses the moment she points towards the clock on the far wall when Tina asks for the time, and hears Rachel gasp ahead of her.

" _Quinn_."

She ignores the brunette, dropping her hand and pulling her sleeve back down in a hurry, and then mentally curses herself for drawing even more attention to it.

"Quinn."

As much as she doesn't want to, Quinn glances at her, and she immediately wishes she didn't. The eyes are too much, and she's just relieved that Rachel doesn't say anything more, because it's obvious she knows. The marks are unmistakable. They're scars, and any idiot would know what they mean.

"When?"

Quinn doesn't respond, which Rachel must accept, because she reaches for said wrist, ignoring the way Quinn resists. She doesn't know how she's never noticed, or how she doesn't know, but it's obviously something Quinn doesn't want to talk about.

So, Rachel doesn't ask any more about it, choosing rather to trace her fingers over the scars and marvel at the way Quinn shivers. Unable to resist, she draws said wrist to her lips and presses a soft kiss against the marked skin.

" _Rachel_ ," Quinn breathes, but this is just another thing about which they don't talk.

 

_5 - Cap_

Quinn wears a baseball cap - apparently, she's a Red Sox fan - on a random Friday their senior year, it's peak tipped upwards and her hair loose. Rachel doesn't catch sight of her until they're sitting in English together, and her breath gets stuck in her throat when Quinn offers her a tiny smile in greeting and takes her seat near the front.

Halfway through the lesson, Rachel looks up to see that Quinn is now wearing the cap backwards, which is almost worse.

Or, better.

Something.

 

_6 - High_

Rachel receives a phone call one night at two-fifteen from Quinn, during her particular punk phase their senior year, and it's a very groggy brunette who murmurs a "hello" into her phone.

"Can you see the stars?"

Rachel feels her entire body grow warm at the sound of Quinn's low, raspy voice, her words slurring slightly. "What?"

"Can you see the stars?"

"Quinn, do you have any idea what time it is?"

"I can see the stars, Rachel," Quinn murmurs. "I never used to, but I can see them now. I can see all the stars in the galaxy."

Rachel rolls onto her side and tucks the phone between her ear and pillow. "Are they bright?" she asks.

"The brightest," Quinn whispers. "So bright. They're blinding."

Rachel hums. "Where are you?"

"At The Mack's."

Rachel ignores her flash of... jealousy? Unease? _Something_ , at the mention of one of Quinn's Skank friends. "Are you safe?"

"I have the stars."

"Are you happy?"

"Like this, yes."

"Like what?"

"With the stars, Rachel," Quinn says sleepily, letting out a soft yawn.

Rachel doesn't know what to say to that.

"With you," Quinn whispers, and Rachel wonders if she's meant to hear the words. The dial tone that follows tells her she isn't.

 

_7 - Seduce_

If she's being honest, Rachel doesn't know what possesses her to ask Quinn to help her test Finn's loyalty their junior year. She reasons it's her own insecurities that see her bring it up, but she's even more surprised that Quinn actually agrees. She can't be sure what she's actually expecting, but Quinn's hesitance, and then eventual acceptance surprises her.

So does her reaction to Quinn telling her that Finn is definitely hers; that he didn't even blink twice before rejecting Quinn's advances. She wouldn't call it disappointment, exactly - not when it comes to Finn, at least. But, rather, when it comes to Quinn, which freaks her out in a way she won't allow herself to unpack. What excuse is she now going to use to interact with Quinn now?

 

_8 - Bridge_

Rachel hears from Noah that it's unlikely they're going to be celebrating Christmas in his house their sophomore year, and, as he says the words, he casts a slightly guilty look at Quinn, who is standing near the Christmas tree they've erected in the Choir Room.

Rachel wants to ask him why he's telling her any of this, when she doesn't celebrate Christmas, either.

"I think she wants to do something, but I don't know what that is," Noah says. "Quinn, I mean, but she won't talk to me about it. She won't talk to me about anything, actually."

Rachel can see his unease. There's a certain forlorn look in his eyes, but his reluctance is paramount. Relief, as well. Pleading, and Rachel realises Noah is telling her this particular bit of news for a reason.

He wants _her_ to do something, instead, and the entire thing is unsettling. She despises the assumption that she _would_ , or that he would pass on the opportunity to do something nice for Quinn to someone the blonde positively hates.

"Maybe you should get a miniature tree," Rachel finds herself saying. "Just for Quinn, to put in her room, maybe."

Noah blinks. "She doesn't have a room," he says. "She sleeps in our basement."

"Oh."

Noah sighs, running his left hand over his Mohawk. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do," he whispers. "She hates me."

"She doesn't hate you," Rachel automatically says, even though she can't be sure of the words. Obviously, she doesn't know the full story - she's never really bothered to find out; choosing to run to Finn before she could even learn the true truth - but she has to admit she gets the feeling there's a strong part of Quinn that does resent the boy. "She's just sad," Rachel says; "and she probably misses her home and her family. The holidays can be hard."

It doesn't looks as if he understands just what that must be like for Quinn, and she wants to slap him for not taking it seriously that Quinn has... nobody, essentially.

Noah makes an impatient sound. "So, what do I do?"

Rachel glances at Quinn again, finding her still standing and staring at the tree. She seems almost transfixed by it; as if she's begging it to make her Christmas wish come true. Whatever it is.

"Get her a tree, Noah," Rachel says. "It doesn't have to be anything big. It can be a tiny, plastic thing, even. Just, try. I don't think she wants anything more than that."

Noah just nods. "Okay."

The melancholy in Quinn's entire demeanour is almost painful to witness, and Rachel has to look away. A tree is something small, sure, but it's something, and Rachel thinks that's what counts right now.

 

_9 - Insult_

It's somewhere in the latter half of January their senior year that Rachel truly notices that Quinn's supposed insults have graduated to playful teasing. She can't pinpoint the moment it actually happened, but she does notice when Quinn casually says, "God, what is it with you and this Argyle? You'd think I'd get used to the eyesore after all these years, but it's just not happening," with a mirthful glint in her eyes and a smirk across her lips. It's really the moment Rachel realises that their friendship - relationship - has reached a certain level of familiarity, and she wasn't even paying attention.

It helps, or doesn't, when her own mouth automatically says, "Don't lie, Quinn; we both know you secretly like it," with twinkling eyes, and she takes far too much satisfaction in the way Quinn blushes brightly and can't bring herself to meet her eyes.

 

_10 - Accept_

If Rachel had to choose a college for Quinn to attend, she's certain she would put Yale near the top of the list. She says 'near,' because the colleges at the top of the list are actually in New York because, well, for obvious reasons. It's odd, she thinks, that if this were any other person, she would feel envy and anguish and desperation, but this is _Quinn_ , and Quinn has been through so much and she deserves this. She deserves all the good things.

And, so what if knowing that Quinn is going to be thriving in college while she's… doing whatever she's going to be doing (with Finn) makes her insides twist painfully? She can handle it. She can totally handle the idea of the rest of her classmates realising their dreams. She _can_.

But, Quinn says she doesn't have to.

"If _I_ can get out of this backwards town, then so can you," Quinn says, almost imploring her to understand. "So, maybe NYADA isn't the place for you? You have options, Rachel. You're talented and smart and so fucking tenacious. If anyone in this world can do anything; it's you. So, please, _please_ don't give up, okay? You've got _so much_ to give and learn and _live_. Please. Please don't waste it." _On Finn Hudson_ , is left unsaid, but they both hear it.

Rachel takes a deep breath, suddenly unable to look at Quinn's face: her eyes, her frown, her downturned lips. Her own eyes, instead, look down at the Acceptance letter held securely in pale hands, and she feels this _loss_ settle over her. Not only has she lost her dream of NYADA and Broadway stardom, but she's lost _Quinn_. It's never been more apparent until this moment. Right here. Right now.

Quinn must sense the direction of her thoughts, because she steps closer and ducks her head to catch Rachel's eyes. "Please," she whispers. "Promise me this isn't it. Promise me you won't give up."

Rachel audibly swallows, gently covering Quinn's hands with her own and giving them a gentle squeeze. "I'm so proud of you," Rachel forces out. "You - you have absolutely no idea just how much." She blinks. "We - we should get to Glee."

And, when Rachel walks out of the bathroom, it becomes increasingly apparent to them both that, maybe, Quinn has lost, too.

 

_11 - Steak_

Rachel is persistent enough to get punk Quinn to - however reluctantly - spend time with her… through force. Really, Rachel just climbs into the passenger seat of Quinn's car and refuses to get out, much to the blonde's ire and irritation. It practically rolls off her in waves and, while Rachel should be wary of that dark look in Quinn's eyes, she finds it more amusing than anything. The pink hair isn't scary at all. If you can get over everything else, it's actually quite adorable.

"Rachel," Quinn says through gritted teeth. "We've already discussed this. I'm going to do some… unsavoury things."

"Quinn," Rachel says, ever patient. "I've already seen you consume alcohol, partake in those filthy cigarettes, smoke weed, commit vandalism and flirt with older gentlemen. I highly doubt there's anything you could do that could turn me off of this endeavour."

Which, obviously, is the worst thing to say, because Quinn gets this wicked glint in her eye and her lips curve upwards in mischief.

Rachel forces herself to ignore the way her stomach flips at the sight, and she has barely enough time to grab onto _something_ as Quinn shifts the car into gear and takes off, all before Rachel can even blink. Her right hand flies up to grip the handle above her head, and the other one reaches out for Quinn's right thigh, her nails digging into the warm flesh she finds there. Her complaints for Quinn to slow down fall on deaf ears, and, when the car comes to a stop, Rachel imagines _that_ was what Quinn had in mind to scare her off.

She's mistaken.

Quinn parks the car, gets out and, very purposefully, walks into a steakhouse. Grill. Barbecue. All the meat things.

Oh.

It takes Rachel close to eleven minutes to get her heart beating at a normal rate again, and then psyche herself up enough to enter the restaurant. Is it a restaurant? It's definitely something, and she practically shudders when she steps into the large, dimly-lit room, her eyes adjusting quickly as she searches for Quinn. She finds her in a booth right near the kitchens, where the grilling meat smell is the most prominent. Rachel swallows her… revulsion, and then goes to sit opposite Quinn. She's ready to begin her lecture on the advantages veganism when she catches sight of the glass of water - ice, no lemon, the way she prefers - on her side of the table, waiting for her, and her voice gets caught in her throat.

Quinn gives her a curious look. "I'm afraid they haven't even heard of _vegan_ here," she says, a coy smile dancing across her lips.

"I doubt they've heard of a vegetable, either," she mutters under her breath, as her eyes scan the menu in front of her. "Have you already ordered?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

"For both of us."

Rachel's eyes widen. "Quinn, I swear, if you've ordered me a - a steak, I will actually stab you with my fork. I will. I really, really will."

Quinn raises her eyebrows, amused. "Let me get this straight: you can't stand the thought of animals getting hurt, but you would stab _me_?"

"They're innocent," she says, huffing.

"Am _I_ not innocent?" Quinn asks, almost singing.

"Not when you look like that."

"Like what?"

"Like _that_."

"Like what?"

Rachel puffs out a breath. "You know as well as I do that you look anything but innocent, Quinn," she says.

"Oh?"

Rachel's eyes narrow, and then widen to saucers when a server heads their way and places the largest steak Rachel has ever seen in front of Quinn. It's gigantic, practically spilling off the rim of the plate, and Rachel can't even imagine how Quinn - tiny, tiny Quinn - is supposed to eat it all.

"And, for you," the server says with an amused little smile, setting a plate down in front of her.

Rachel isn't sure what to expect, but she can't help the tiny smile on her own face at the plain baked potato in the centre of her plate, with a side of raw carrot and celery sticks. "Thank you," she says, and then looks at Quinn, who looks slightly amused in her own right. "Nutritious," Rachel comments.

Quinn rolls her eyes. "There is literally nothing else," she says, huffing in mild exasperation. "All the veggie stuff either has some kind of cream in it, or it's deep-friend, and I imagine there's a lot of cross-contamination with meat products in the deep-fryer."

Rachel is taken aback by how much thought Quinn seems to have put into it; that, while she's trying to get Rachel to leave her alone, she's still trying to accommodate her. So, with a soft huff, Rachel very purposefully lifts a carrot stick to her mouth and takes a loud bite.

Quinn grins at her, and then digs into her humungous steak… which she ends up eating only a third of before she has them pack it up, and then gives it to a homeless man on the way back to school.

Rachel realises, only later, that they were probably on some kind of date because, seriously, Quinn paid when she was too horrified by the man devouring a platter ribs the next table over to notice.

 

_12 - Strip_

Rachel doesn't really entertain the conscious idea of Quinn Fabray as, well, an attractive girl until they're both juniors and Quinn is back as Head Cheerleader. The realisation comes on a particular Wednesday during Glee, and it catches not only Rachel off guard when Quinn inadvertently reveals the extent of her post-baby abdominal muscles.

"Oh, my God," Tina says from Rachel's left side, the moment Quinn's top starts to ride up as she attempts to pull off her sweater. It gets caught somewhere, and the entire Choir Room is offered precious seconds of a sight that makes quite a few of them uncomfortably warm.

Too many of them, really.

"Help," Quinn mumbles from within her sweater, and Rachel moves first, beating Sam to it.

Rachel purposefully stands in front of Quinn, consciously blocking everybody's view as she tugs on Quinn's top, bringing it down to cover her abdomen once more. Then she helps with removing the sweater, and someone help _her_ if she hasn't had a late night fantasy of possibly actually undressing Quinn Fabray a few times in her life.

It doesn't help that Quinn smiles this grateful, toothy smile when she's finally free of the constricting sweater, and breathlessly says, "Thanks, Berry," before she walks away, leaving Rachel to consider why this is the moment her head and heart have decided to acknowledge the divine creature that is Quinn Fabray.

 

_13 - Dance_

While Rachel knows Quinn is a cheerleader, she doesn't really understand what that all entails until she goes to a football game early their sophomore year - to watch Finn, of course - and gets much more than she bargained for.

She knows she shouldn't be here. It's only fuelling a fire she probably shouldn't have started, but Finn is drawing her in, and now she finds herself in Quinn's orbit. She thinks she would willingly stay, if it means she gets to watch Quinn dance.

Because, really, that's what this cheerleading thing is. It's some kind of blend of gymnastics and dance, and Rachel finds her eyes drifting down to the track lanes, where the cheerleaders are bouncing and yelling for every play, more often than not.

And, Quinn dances with the kind of ease that Rachel doesn't think she's ever seen. She seems relaxed, in her element, her hands high in the air and her hips moving. It's mesmerising, just watching her move, as if all the care has left her body, and she doesn't have to worry about boyfriends and losers and society and growing secrets and being ice cold.

She can just dance and smile and cheer and laugh and _be_ , and Rachel doesn't think she's ever seen her look more beautiful.

 

_14 - Enchant_

There are times when Rachel catches herself staring at Quinn for no particular reason. Early in their sophomore year, before they truly started interacting, Rachel had the crazy thought that, maybe, Quinn actually put her under a spell. It's a ridiculous thought, looking back, but she spends three entire days convinced Quinn has her in some kind of bind.

Maybe she's a teenage witch. Sabrina vibes, not Harry Potter.

But, then, if Quinn did possess some kind of magic; why would she waste it on Rachel, and making sure Rachel keeps looking at her? It seems unlikely, which leaves Rachel with the uncomfortable realisation that she's looking at Quinn as often as she does as a result of her own volition.

Well.

 

_15 - Necklace_

Rachel doesn't bring it up, because she's not sure how to, but she's always been able to notice when Quinn is wearing the cross around her neck or not. Despite what people have been led to believe, Rachel has always suspected that the Celibacy Club was important to Quinn in terms of her faith, more than anything.

But, there are a few months their sophomore year that Quinn stops wearing the necklace. It's after she gets kicked out and goes to live with Finn, and Rachel imagines it's the weight of the lie and the pain of being disowned that make her turn away from her religion.

Still, the necklace is back on by the time she's living with Mercedes, and Rachel sees it consistently until the time she and Finn start up again, going behind Sam's back. Rachel wonders, really, why Quinn would continue with all of it when she was aware it wasn't right, but Rachel has never been one to judge, because she's done questionable things herself and she has no true religion she turns to.

The necklace doesn't reappear until well after the punk explosion. Quinn is back to blonde and 'kind of' friends with her before Rachel sees the tiny cross again, sitting primly against the warm skin of Quinn's chest. Rachel's always wanted to ask about it and, one day, Quinn catches her looking, and smiles this smile that proves she knows Rachel far better than even the brunette knows.

"It's taken me a while," Quinn says as an answer to Rachel's unasked question. "Sometimes, I thought He left me, but He was there the entire time, even when I was so lost and confused." She meets Rachel's gaze, hazel eyes warm and open. "I've accepted who I am now, and I just have to believe He'll love me for exactly who that is."

Rachel gets the feeling Quinn is telling her something important, but she doesn't know what it is. She has no response, either, so she just reaches out to run the pads of her fingers over the cool metal. She brushes Quinn's skin in the process, and the blonde sucks in a sharp breath.

Rachel looks into her eyes, her tone severe. "Of course, He's going to love you," she says. "No matter what."

 

_16 - Elegant_

Rachel spends far too much time watching Quinn's hands. It's something she acknowledges about herself during the lead up to Prom their junior year.

Quinn's hands; they're alarmingly still. She barely moves them, her wrists steady and her fingers pressed together. They either hang limp at her sides when she stands or they sit folded over each other in her lap when she's seated.

When her hands do move, there's always something purposeful about it. Delicate. Necessary.

But, really, Rachel truly notices her own... interest after she helps Finn with choosing the perfect corsage for Quinn - those perfect hands need to be dressed up accordingly, and now she's obsessing over pale wrists and _what colour is Quinn's manicure going to be_?

They're just hands, Rachel tells herself, and it's one of those hands that ends up connecting with her left cheek on the night of said Prom, and it's severely disturbing that Rachel still finds those elegant hands as fascinating as she does. They're not still tonight; rather trembling as Quinn cries, and Rachel does the thing and reaches out to hold them; stilling them.

It helps them both, and Rachel says it's okay and calls her pretty - which she blames on proximity and _these hands are softer than I imagined_.

It's okay, but it's really not, and Rachel will come to accept that this moment is one of many that lead to Quinn's subsequent explosion.

 

_17 - Provoke_

Rachel, admittedly, has always been particularly fascinated by Quinn and Santana's friendship, provided one can even call it that. They constantly snipe at each other, snarky and sometimes hurtful, and Rachel wonders how they've managed to stay friends all these years. They've even thrown punches before.

There are two things off limits, though. Two topics that they've mutually decided not to go anywhere near, and Rachel knows it as much as anyone. Beth, for Quinn, and Brittany, for Santana.

Sexuality and teenage pregnancies. They touch on things that neither girl wants to face, and so they're carefully avoided. Most of the time, at least, because it's much easier to get too close to Quinn's demons than it is to Santana's.

Quinn has demons everywhere, lying in wait to remind her she's undeserving and unwanted.

Rachel notices the moment. When Santana says _fuck, how could anyone ever love you?_ in that snarky voice she has; something in Quinn's demeanour changes. It's subtle, so minimal, but Rachel sees it, and Quinn ends up taking a beat too long to hit Santana with her comeback, and Rachel feels it in her bones.

She imagines Quinn asks herself that question already.

 

_18 - Runaway_

It's surprising, but also not, that Quinn finds her in the bathroom just moments after the entire truth about Finn and Santana is revealed, and it's really the last thing Rachel wants to be dealing with - which, if she allows herself to acknowledge it, is very unlike her.

"If you've come to rub it in my face, you can save it," Rachel says snappily, furiously wiping at her eyes. There's a certain anger swimming in her veins, and the rage wants to say something awful to Quinn, just because she's here.

Quinn regards her carefully, before reaching for a paper towel and holding it out to her. "And, why would I do that?" she asks, her voice steady. "I've been burned by both of them, as well. So what?"

" _You've_ been burned by them?" Rachel accuses harshly, anger and heartbreak fuelling her words. " _You're_ the one who cheated on Finn and then lied to him about the baby's father, and then _you_ told Coach Sylvester about Santana's surgery to steal your spot back!"

Quinn barely reacts. "Yes," she says. "So, what we've gathered from this is that, despite how much they've apparently hurt you, you still have this ridiculous compassion for them, right? Righteous protection, right?"

Rachel just stares at her.

"I guess that's the difference between you and me," Quinn says. "Between Finn and me, and between Santana and me. Because, God forbid we don't acknowledge that Finn cheated on me, too. With _you_. Or, I don't know, that Santana basically abandoned me like the rest of my supposed - " she stops suddenly, shaking her head as if to clear it. "Jesus, I didn't come in here to have a pissing contest with you."

Rachel clenches her jaw. "Then, why did you come in here?"

Quinn frowns slightly. "I - I don't know," she says. "I guess I wanted to make sure you came back to Glee."

"Why?"

"Because, Rachel," she says, and she sounds so, so tired. Exhausted. Defeated. " _That_ is the difference between you and me. _You'll_ actually do it."

It's several hours later that Rachel realises that Quinn called her by her first name.

 

_19 - Tears_

"I've tried it twice," Quinn says, eyeing the way Rachel can't stop staring at her left wrist. Rachel hasn't asked about the scars since that first day, but they're alone now, sprawled across Quinn's bed, and Rachel seems distracted by it.

Rachel stops pretending to fiddle with her _iPod_ , and gives Quinn her full attention.

"I was just curious the first time," Quinn says, unable to look at her. "It was barely anything. It bled a little, but it didn't hurt as much as I thought it would. It was actually... quite... pleasant."

Rachel audibly swallows, so tempted to reach out and touch her. She remains perfectly still.

"But, the second time, I definitely meant it," she says. "I was drunk and high and heartsore in the worst way. Last year was _so hard_ , Rachel, and I just - " she puffs out a breath. "There was this night when the great big world just - it just - and I - I _couldn't_ , you know? I just couldn't, anymore, and I had this fantastical thought of being somewhere else; somewhere where I could fly; somewhere where I wasn't so indispensable. Somewhere where I wasn't this pathetic girl whose parents could throw her out; who was maybe worthy of being loved; who people cared about. _Wanted_." Quinn clenches her jaw. "But, that wasn't me, and I though maybe I could be. Somewhere else. Somebody else."

Rachel knows there are tears pooling in her eyes, but she won't let them fall.

"But, I was dunk and high, and the razor was blunt, and I - well, I'm still here, right? I did this thing - well, I almost did - and the best and worst part is that nobody even noticed. I passed out for a little while, and then I woke up with a killer hangover, blood everywhere and it was like nothing even happened. I took a painkiller and some iron pills, bandaged myself up, and life went on as usual. Sometimes, I feel so invisible that I start to think I really did die, and now I'm just a..." she trails off, but Rachel hears her. A ghost.

This time, Rachel can't stop herself from reaching out to hold Quinn's hand, and the blonde startles, her automatic response to take her hand back.

She doesn't.

Rachel doesn't say anything - she's learned not to say anything when she doesn't know what to say.

Quinn seems grateful for it. "I didn't used to believe in Fate or all that, but I think maybe I was so uncoordinated for a reason. It's almost funny. I was so out of it, I wanted to end it all, and yet that's probably what saved me."

Rachel abandons the pretence of composure, and shifts, practically scrambling to hug Quinn. She just needs to be holding her; keeping her here, never letting her go.

"You can cry if you want to," Quinn whispers, her own arms wrapping around Rachel's waist as the brunette practically sags against her. "Somebody should."

 

_20 - Summon_

Quinn doesn't ask.

She doesn't say a word, in fact.

But, when she steps into the Choir Room one Wednesday in November of their senior year when she's been AWOL from Glee since the start of the year and merely stares meaningfully at Rachel for an innumerable amount of time; Rachel knows to go.

Without a word, ignoring all the questions and confused glances she receives, she gets to her feet and moves towards Quinn, just knowing she'll follow this girl anywhere.

Into the bathroom.

Into her arms.

Rachel doesn't ask, either. She just holds tightly, hearing Quinn's sobs, feeling her pain and wishing above all that she can make it better, but not knowing how.

 

_21 - Bear_

Rachel visits Mercedes with Kurt late in their sophomore year, and she feels slightly uncomfortable in a home that's foreign to her, with people who she's just coming to accept are maybe her friends. So, she's nervous and excited, and it's those feelings that have her almost forget that Quinn is actually living with Mercedes now.

She's reminded of it when she steps through the front door and Mercedes immediately holds a finger to her lips, indicating for her to be quiet. Mercedes points at the couch, and Rachel's gaze drifts to where Quinn is lying curled up, adorably asleep, her one hand resting over her protruding stomach and a stuffed lamb held in the other.

Rachel positively melts at the sight, and Mercedes says, "I know, right?"

 _It's not even fair_ , Rachel thinks, _that a human being can actually be that cute_. She steps towards Quinn, absently reaching for a throw blanket on the end of the couch. Her own heart is beating much too fast as she gently spreads the throw over Quinn's form, careful not to wake her. She gasps softly when the stuffed lamb slips out of Quinn's grip as she shifts, and Rachel immediately bends to retrieve it to return it to its original position.

Rachel almost jumps out of her skin when she comes face-to-face with sleepy hazel eyes blinking up at her. "Hi," Rachel finds herself saying.

Quinn shifts slightly, trying to take in her surroundings. She glances down at the light blanket now draped over her body, and she smiles softly at Rachel's caught expression. "Hey," Quinn murmurs, and then shifts again, resettling and getting more comfortable.

Rachel can just watch in mild wonder and fascination as Quinn's eyes slip closed again, her grip tightening on her stuffed lamb, and promptly falls asleep again. It's only then that Rachel notices that Mercedes has disappeared.

 

_22 - Abuse_

Quinn says, "I decided a while ago that I didn't want to have children," and Rachel stops writing her essay immediately, knowing to give Quinn her full attention, because this moment is important. "I didn't want to raise them," Quinn clarifies, staring out into the empty spaces of the library. "I - I get scared I'll ruin a perfect life; I'll mess them up and turn them into an screwup like me."

Rachel doesn't say anything; just grabs for Quinn's closest hand and squeezes it tightly, silently letting Quinn know she's here and she's not going anywhere.

"I wonder about what kind of parent I would be when I have the ones I do," Quinn continues; "because how can I be anything different to them when I don't have anything else to compare to?" She blinks slowly. "I used to tell myself I would just do everything they didn't, but how do I know that won't screw a kid up any more or less, so it's just easier not to take that risk. I'd just make a mess of something pure and innocent, and that's not fair, right? I couldn't do that."

Rachel doesn't say that the fact Quinn seems so worried about this one thing merely proves how different she already is from her parents. She doesn't think that's what Quinn wants to hear in this moment.

"There are studies," Quinn says; "that show the likelihood of..." she trails off. "I just don't think I would be a good parent. I don't think I could ever handle hurting my child."

And, Rachel hears what Quinn is trying desperately not to tell her. She's more in tune to this girl than her own boyfriend at the moment. Even herself, sometimes.

"For what it's worth," Rachel finds herself saying; "I think you would make a great mom."

Quinn gives her an incredulous look. "Why do you say that?"

"Because, Quinn," she says, squeezing pale fingers; "these future children don't even exist, and you're already putting them first. That tells us everything, don't you think?"

 

_23 - Broom_

Quinn cleans obsessively, which is something Rachel learns the first night Quinn sleeps over at her house during their senior year. It's not a planned sleepover, but Quinn falls asleep in the middle of _Pretty Woman_ , and Rachel and her fathers don't have the heart to wake her. So, Rachel just covers her with a light blanket, and leaves her to her dreams.

In the morning, Rachel wakes and expects to find Quinn still curled up on the couch, but her surprise is paramount when she finds the blonde in the kitchen, instead. For all of Quinn's apparent stillness, there's a certain restlessness in her this morning, and Rachel stands in the kitchen doorway and watches as Quinn fusses over something or the other.

"Hey," Rachel eventually says, and Quinn freezes. "You're up early."

Quinn turns to face her. "Did you know that your all-purpose cleaner is finished?" she asks. "You just ran out. Also, I couldn't find your mop. Do you have one? I mean, everywhere but the kitchen and bathrooms is basically carpeted, but you must have one, right?"

Rachel steps into the room and takes slow steps towards the girl in front of her. "Quinn," she says, her voice soft and careful. "How long have you been awake?"

"Not long," Quinn lies.

Rachel stops right in front of her, carefully reaches for her hands and says, "Quinn," in a tone that makes Quinn crumple right before her eyes. "Quinn," she repeats, and this has to be her favourite name to say. "It's okay."

"What is?"

"Whatever you think you have to do; whatever is on your mind right now; it's okay. I promise it's okay."

Quinn looks conflicted; caught, somehow, and all Rachel wants to do is hug her and never let her go.

So, she does the first part of that, carefully drawing Quinn into a hug to settle whatever has managed to plague the blonde during the night.

It takes Quinn a moment, but she eventually settles into the embrace and Rachel feels her exhale. Quinn's arms tighten around her waist, and it feels like everything and nothing at the same time.

"I had a nightmare," Quinn whispers. "And then I woke up and I had no idea where I was."

"So, your first instinct was to clean?" Rachel asks, which could be confused for teasing if Rachel wasn't so concerned.

"Yes," Quinn breathes, and that single word says more than an entire paragraph could.

"Okay," Rachel says, squeezing her that bit tighter. When she finally loosens her grip, she meets Quinn's gaze and says, "We have a new bottle in the pantry; did you check?"

 

_24 - Pancake_

It's during Quinn's first scheduled sleepover that Rachel learns that Quinn actually took the time to memorise a recipe for vegan pancakes - why, Quinn probably won't ever tell her - and Rachel is left speechless as she watches Quinn prepare them in her kitchen, looking entirely too comfortable. She's wearing a 'Kiss the Chef' apron that belongs to one of her fathers and, while she's never really been good at doing what she's told, Rachel thinks she would happily acquiesce to this instruction.

"Remind me again why we're having pancakes for dinner," Rachel says, pretending to scroll through her _iPod_ for a new song, when all she's really doing is sneaking looks at Quinn, who seems more at home in this kitchen than Rachel has ever seen her.

Quinn gives her a look, frowning at the audacity of the question. "I shouldn't even have to explain it to you," she says, sounding affronted. "You should just know, Berry."

Rachel raises her eyebrows. "Oh?"

"Oh," Quinn confirms. "Now, stop messing with the music and make yourself useful. Didn't you say you had frozen blueberries somewhere?"

"We do."

"Hop to it," Quinn says, chucking a dish towel at her. "God knows something has to make these soulless pancakes even a little bit exciting."

 

_25 - Distress_

Quinn has lines of tensions in her neck, along her temple and on her forehead. Rachel learns, through careful observation, that each one represents a different level or reason of distress.

Her neck is low level, representing discomfort and a desire to escape. It, in itself, has its own distinctions, because Quinn is constantly uncomfortable.

Her forehead is the highest level, and it represents her anger and her rage. Rachel has been witness to the way the vein there can pulse and throb, as if it's about the explode, Quinn yelling and screaming and raging. It can happen at the flip of a switch, and that's really because Quinn is actually always angry.

But, it's her temple that really reaches levels of extreme, because that tension is linked to Quinn's pain. It's the kind she can easily hide, particularly when she's out of the cheerleading uniform and her hair can hang loosely. Because, God, those lines are always there, and Rachel wonders if she's ever seen a day that Quinn hasn't been in pain.

 

_26 - Car_

"I'm going to go out on a limb here and assume you didn't pick this car for yourself."

Quinn glances at Rachel over her sunglasses. "Got something against my wheels, Berry?"

"Quinn, it's pink."

"So?"

Rachel huffs. "Even before your woe-is-me punk thing you've got going on right now, you never would have picked something like this for yourself."

Quinn hums, ignoring her without actually ignoring her.

"You didn't pick it," Rachel states. "Who did?"

Quinn clears her throat. "My mom did," she says, surprising them both by answering. "When I moved back in, it was waiting for me, like some kind of..." she trails off. "I guess she did it to alleviate some of her guilt, and I wasn't going to refuse, because, if ever the entire thing went south again, I would at least have something to sleep in."

Rachel sucks in a breath. "Quinn."

She shrugs. "I was fifteen when they kicked me out, you know," she says. "I didn't have a car; just a stupid learners' permit. It was horrible, having to rely on Finn to get places. And Puck, who was never ever around and couldn't answer his phone to save his life. Then, with Mercedes, well, then I didn't really want to go anywhere because I was such a whale." She laughs humourlessly. "And, people stare on the bus. They stare and they judge and - " she cuts herself off. "So, yeah, when I moved back home and my mom handed me the keys, I said okay, and I told myself I didn't care what car it was."

"Do you?"

"A little," she says, smirking slightly. "Doesn't really go with my image right now, does it?"

"You should be driving a _Mustang_ ," Rachel says.

"I actually like the _Audi_ ," Quinn says. "Britt was convinced I should be driving one of the Q Series. A Q5 maybe, or a 3."

"Because your name starts with a Q?"

"Ding ding ding," Quinn says sarcastically. "We've got a bright spark here, people."

Rachel just glares at her and, if Quinn's smirk turns into a full-blown grin that makes Rachel's stomach flip; well, nobody's going to mention that.

 

_27 - Suppress_

There's a tightening of Quinn's normally-still hands, her fists clenching when Puck refers to her as 'Baby Mama,' and Rachel wonders just how much effort it takes for her not to lash out at him in some way.

She imagines it's a lot, because Rachel has the urge to punch him in the face for his callousness, herself, and she's the least violent person she knows. There are words she wants to say to him, and she wonders why Quinn says nothing, even though the girl has been particularly quiet since the baby was born. There's just this melancholy that follows her, clouding her in it, and Rachel can only hope and pray it doesn't end up suffocating her while it's at it.

 

_28 - Pizza_

Sophomore Quinn would never have eaten pizza, at all, but this one does. This Quinn with dark eyeliner and bubblegum pink hair, who has snark in spades and looks so dangerously unapologetic, doesn't seem to care about anything.

Rachel thinks there are parts of that that are beautiful, and a lot more that are terrifying. If Quinn doesn't care, who else is going to?

So, Quinn eats pizza with zero guilt now and, despite the fact it's dairy and pepperoni and goes against all of Rachel's beliefs; the sight of a happy, smiling Quinn, who hums in pleasure, is one of the greatest things she's ever seen.

"What?" Quinn asks after she's swallowed her latest mouthful, because she might be somewhat uncaring now, but she still has impeccable manners and she's not about to start talking with her mouth full just because.

Rachel just smiles. "Nothing."

Quinn's eyes narrow. "We had steak last time," she says. "Is this better or worse?"

"Would it kill you to eat a vegetable?"

"You're the one who insists on coming with me," Quinn counters.

"You enjoy my company," Rachel shoots right back.

"Keep telling yourself that," is Quinn's immediate response, just before her smile dims slightly. "But, yes, I suppose I do."

Rachel wants to reach out and touch her, but she restrains herself. "If it's any consolation; I kind of enjoy your company, too."

Quinn's features soften for a beat, before she smirks, and Rachel knows the former blonde is going to say something saucy, and she's not surprised. "Well, you would have to, to put up with all the baby chickens that went into making this delicious pizza."

Rachel chucks an olive at her, and Quinn doesn't even bother to try to dodge it. It bounces off her chest, leaving a damp mark, and both their eyes drop down to inspect the stain on her purple tank top.

It takes Rachel far too long to realise she's staring at Quinn's cleavage, and she blushes madly as she quickly averts her eyes.

Completely missing when Quinn throws the olive right back at her, hitting her square on the nose.

 

_29 - Organise_

Rachel once thought she was an organised person. She's an excessive planner, meticulous and pedantic in nature, but even she has to concede that she doesn't hold a candle to Quinn Fabray. It's something she discovers in January of their senior year, when she goes over to Quinn's house for the very first time.

The house, itself, is large and a little too cold. It's finely decorated, but it doesn't feel like much of a home. Based on what she's heard from Quinn, Rachel knows the relationship between mother and daughter is still strained, especially after Quinn's punk antics.

But, then, Rachel goes up to Quinn's bedroom, and it catches her off guard in all the best and worst ways. It's not what she's expecting, but she's not entirely surprised. It's just so clean, tidy and organised in a way that's oddly unsettling. Everything has its own place, even labelled in ways that make Rachel frown.

When Quinn notices her curious look, she puffs out a breath. "It's kind of important to know where everything is," she says. "At all times."

There's something in her voice that makes Rachel squirm.

"The last time, my entire room was a mess and I couldn't find all the essentials when... I had to pack my things up." She looks away. "If I get another half hour to pack my things and leave; at least I know where everything is, this time."

"Quinn," she breathes. "Why - why do you constantly have the assumption you're going to get kicked out again?"

Quinn shrugs. "I'm bound to do something wrong," she says, almost cryptically. "I find it difficult to do anything that isn't."

Rachel just reaches out to link their fingers, offering some semblance of comfort. She wants to say words of encouragement, but she can't think of anything, so she just squeezes Quinn's fingers and hopes it's enough.

 

_30 - Coffee_

It amazes Rachel that the first time she and Quinn actually have coffee together at the Lima Bean is late in their senior year. It's after all the crazy punk drama, and in the middle of the teen-wedding drama, and Rachel embraces the opportunity to escape all of that for just one afternoon.

With Quinn, who ends up paying for both their drinks and then grinning mischievously when Rachel complains.

"You'll get the next ones," Quinn says in response, which is really invitation for them to spend the next four hours existing in a little bubble where they can just be these two girls who can talk about Harry Potter and their dream destinations to visit without having to worry about who they were, are and will be to each other.

It's easy, simple, and Rachel catches herself staring at Quinn's smiling face more often than not, which should worry her, but Quinn is just so -

Quinn surprises her by laying a hand over her own, and she does her best to ignore the tingling feeling that spreads from the contact up along her arm. "I'm thinking of getting one of those fancy coffee machines," she says, and this is the boring, inane stuff they can now talk about. "The one with the capsules that can make all the fancy lattes for like a third of the price."

Rachel blinks. "But, then, will we still go out for coffee?" Rachel asks, which probably isn't the first question people usually ask when their friends tell them they're thinking of getting a coffee machine. Maybe she should ask what make of machine Quinn is considering.

"Of course," Quinn says; "but only when you're buying." She winks conspiratorially. "All the other times, well, then, you'll just come to mine."

Rachel's heart stutters. "How many times are we talking here?"

Quinn shrugs, and then grins cheekily. "How much coffee do you drink?"

Truthfully, Rachel doesn't drink much of the stuff, but she's definitely going to start now.

 

_31 - Duck_

Rachel is taking a walk with her father, Hiram, when she sees them. Two blonde girls, practically vibrating with laughter and energy, standing by the park's pond and tossing pieces of bread into the water to feed the ducks. Rachel recognises them immediately, because she would know the form of Quinn Fabray just about anywhere, and it has to be Brittany with her.

Rachel hasn't seen Quinn all summer, and she won't admit to missing the blonde, because that's just preposterous. What reason could she possibly have for missing the girl who's consistently made her life unnecessarily difficult?

Without her consent, she and her father end up walking in their direction, though not entirely towards them. It's the only reason Rachel feels safe enough to acknowledge Quinn probably won't notice them. She just needs not to turn around, and Rachel and Hiram will be able to pass by without being seen.

But, as soon as the thought crosses her mind, a duck does something particularly funny, apparently, and Quinn laughs this laugh that prickles at Rachel's spine, and then they're looking each other.

Hazel eyes startle slightly, and the smile dims.

Rachel forces herself to wave.

She has no idea what it means when Quinn doesn't wave back until Brittany does.

 

_32 - Quirky_

Rachel doesn't realise Quinn is a closeted nerd until she overhears the blonde involved in a rather involved conversation with Mike about _Iron Man_ , who Quinn claims is her favourite. One of those _Avengers_ movies is slated for release, and Finn has been talking incessantly about getting the 'guys' together to watch it at the cinema.

Quinn is apparently 'one of the guys,' and Rachel really doesn't know what to do with that information. All she knows is it doesn't help with anything her mind may or may not be trying to tell her about the state of her relationship with this surprising Quinn Fabray.

 

_33 - Amaze_

There are many things that Quinn does that leave Rachel speechless, but the moment Quinn casually says, "So, I may or may not be getting published in the Lima Chronicle," catches Rachel completely off guard that she almost falls off her chair.

"What?"

Quinn shrugs. "I wrote this letter to the town council about the distinct lack of safe hangouts for teenagers while I was, you know, rebelling." She smiles sheepishly. "It was strongly worded, I guess, and they had a big ol' discussion about it, and then they wrote back to me, and I wrote back, and now they're planning to fund a youth centre downtown, and then I was asked to write a piece about it, and now they're putting it in the paper along with the announcement for the planned centre."

Rachel just blinks, because, God, she doesn't think Quinn has ever said that many words to her in their entire lives. "Wow," she finally says, the only thing her brain can think to say.

Quinn grins at her for a moment. "See," she murmurs. "I wasn't all destruction. Some good came out of that phase of my life."

"I think a lot of good came out of it," she says, and she sounds very serious, all of a sudden. "You learned things about yourself, and now you're exactly you."

"I'm exactly me," Quinn echoes, looking as if the words are foreign on her tongue.

Rachel has the sudden urge to declare some kind of feelings for Quinn, but she controls herself. "So, when is this centre supposed to open?"

"Should be up and running by the summer if all goes to plan," Quinn says. "You reckon you'll be up for doing some volunteer work?"

"Definitely," Rachel immediately says, and she means it.

 

_34 - Sandwich_

It's an excited shriek that catches her attention, and Rachel turns her head right around to see Quinn, head thrown back and laughter on her lips. She's seated on the couch in the Hudson-Hummels' basement, sandwiched between Mercedes and Sam, and she looks happy.

Light.

Relieved.

Unburdened.

She looks stunning in all the ways Quinn can, and Rachel can't bring herself to look away. Whatever Mercedes is saying has Quinn in stitches, her body almost doubled over and tears in her eyes.

Rachel can't stop staring. She's constantly existing in this state of... jealousy when it comes to Quinn. She wants to be the one to make the girl laugh like that, sit close against her like that, feel her warmth and bask in her undivided attention. God, she wants so many things.

Enlightenment, definitely, and for Quinn to look at her, which she does a moment later, hazel eyes locking on chestnut brown with ease as if she can sense Rachel's gaze. Rachel is tempted look away, but she doesn't, and Quinn just cocks her head, as if she just knows.

She probably does.

 

_35 - Sweet_

On that first trip to Carmel High School with Quinn and Mercedes their sophomore year, Rachel is struck dumb when Mercedes stops for gas and Quinn turns to her to ask, "Do you want anything from inside?"

She takes too long to answer, because Quinn's eyes are boring into her and her hand is resting on her knee - _really, how is a person supposed to function with either of those things happening, let alone both?_ \- so Quinn just shakes her head and gets out of the car, returning six minutes later with a packet of red liquorice, which she offers to Rachel with a small smile and the words, "It's vegan, I checked."

It's the only comfort Rachel finds, after she's met Shelby and left feeling surprisingly... disappointed. All she knows is she's forever going to associate the sweet treat with Quinn, and with comfort.

 

_36 - Scold_

Quinn is in a playful mood near Christmas of their senior year. She's back to blonde, looking slightly more herself, even if her eyes are clouded in deep sadness, but she laughs this laugh and smiles this smile that Rachel selfishly thinks are meant for her.

Rachel can't remember what she ends up saying that's so humorous, but Quinn throws her head back in laughter, and then casually swats at Rachel's thigh before just resting her hand there.

"You think you're funny, don't you?" Quinn asks, and her eyes are twinkling.

Rachel doesn't think that, no, but Quinn is laughing at something she's said and her hand is still touching her, and there's something happening in this moment that Rachel knows she should acknowledge.

But, decidedly, _doesn't_.

 

_37 - Butter_

It slips through Quinn's fingers when Rachel hands it to her. Maybe one of them isn't paying enough attention, but Quinn jumps back when it lands at her feet and Rachel squeaks in surprise.

"Whoops," Brittany says from somewhere behind Quinn.

Rachel spends another moment in surprise, before she's speaking. "I'm sorry," she says.

"It's not your fault," Quinn says, frowning down at the broken bottle of ketchup at their feet on the floor of the Hudson-Hummels' kitchen.

It's so out of place, out of the ordinary, and Rachel wonders why this moment even holds any significance for her. Maybe it's because Quinn is now grinning at her, her eyes twinkling.

"My shoes thank you," Quinn says.

Rachel blushes, and she's at a loss as to what to say or do. She's practically frozen in place.

Slowly, Quinn's smile slips, fading to something pensive. Something dark.

Rachel wants to reach out and touch her, but Quinn steps back away, and she suddenly looks stricken by something Rachel doesn't understand.

"Quinn," she whispers, shifting forward.

"I'm okay," Quinn says, shaking her head as if to clear it. "It's just - it looks a lot like blood."

Rachel doesn't ask how she could possibly know that or even what she's currently remembering, because they're not those kinds of friends.

And, when Quinn spins around and stalks away without saying another word, Rachel wonders if they're friends at all.

 

_38 - Lost_

"Do you believe in soulmates?" Quinn asks one Tuesday in January their senior year. They're both spread out on the hood of Quinn's car, and Rachel's arm in linked so tightly with Quinn's because she's terrified she's going to slip off. Quinn's leather jacket is draped over her legs, failing at keeping her warm where the length of Quinn's body is succeeding.

"How so?" Rachel murmurs, because there are all sorts of soulmates in the world.

"Like, do you believe there's honestly only one someone out there who's meant for you?" Quinn asks, recognising she needs to clarify what she means. "Like, out of every living soul in this world, there is only one person you're destined for, and you won't be nearly as happy with anyone else than you'd be with them?"

If Rachel's being honest, she hasn't put all that much faith in 'soulmates.' She believes in fate and destiny, sure, but she's also the girl who has a very detailed plan about how she expects her entire life to go. It doesn't really leave much room for meeting her soulmate, or whatever. "I - I don't know," she finally decides on saying. "Do you?"

Quinn hums in thought. "I think I would like to," she says, almost whispering. "I think my younger self, Lucy, would have said yes in a heartbeat. I think, back then, I was just waiting, hoping, for someone to come and save me, and who better to do that than my supposed soulmate?" She breathes out slowly. "Now, I guess, I _want_ to believe in them because I can't think of how anyone who wasn't programmed to love me ever could."

Rachel stiffens at the confession, and she would probably sit up and admonish Quinn for such a terrible thought if she weren't so terrified of falling off.

"It's okay, Rach," Quinn says tiredly, as if she can sense Rachel's argument, but she's choosing not to engage. She just sounds so exhausted, and Rachel wants nothing more than to _give her a break_. "It's okay."

But, they both know it's not.

"I suppose there's still a little Lucy in me," Quinn says. "I'm still waiting for someone to save me."

"Is that so bad?" Rachel asks, because she's genuinely curious.

"It's the worst," Quinn says. "You would think I would have learned the lesson by now. Nobody's going to save me but myself."

"That's not true," Rachel immediately counters, actually lifting herself up this time. She needs to see Quinn's eyes, and the blonde is steadfastly _not_ looking at her. "I would save you," she says, and the words feel heavy on her tongue. "I _will_ save you," she declares, more sure.

Quinn eventually looks at her, and her hazel eyes are so sad; soft in a way that makes Rachel's chest ache. "Oh, Rach," Quinn whispers, her left hand lifting to tuck a lock of hair behind Rachel's ear. "Don't you see?" she murmurs; "you already do. You already have."

 

_39 - Queen_

For Rachel, there are very few adjectives left in the English language to describe Quinn Fabray, but it's a cold day in January of their sophomore year that Rachel uses the word _regal_. It comes out of nowhere, the same way Quinn seems to these days. As if the blonde _wants_ it, she's managed to fade into the background and, whenever Rachel catches flashes of her and her growing stomach, it's almost a surprise to her.

The two of them haven't spoken since Rachel revealed the true father of the baby, and Rachel suspects Quinn wants absolutely nothing to do with her.

Not that Rachel blames her, of course. It's just that, well, Rachel didn't expect to feel like this. At first, she didn't really understand the emotions playing around in her head, swirling in her chest, but some deep reflection has allowed her to put names to everything her mind and heart have been screaming at her.

There was a patch of a few weeks between Quinn's pregnancy becoming common knowledge and the truth of the paternity coming to light where Quinn almost seemed to… tolerate her. It was just a few weeks of Quinn _not_ snarking at her or insulting her, and they even managed a few smiles and short conversations.

Now, though, there's nothing. It's as if Rachel doesn't even exist, and that's probably to do with the fact _Quinn_ doesn't really exist. She just goes through the motions with a regality that makes Rachel envious, and the brunette wonders if there will ever be a day that Quinn doesn't catch her attention, for whatever reason.

Even in the girl's silence, Quinn _demands_ it. People look, whether she likes it or not, because there's just some ineffable about Quinn Fabray. Something that _commands_ ; something that will have all her subjects willing to follow, whether they want to or not.

She's royalty, in all the senses of the word bar lineage.

Quinn can try to disappear as much as she wants, but her time on the throne has already been written into history.

 

_40 - Whisper_

"What was that?" It's Finn who asks the question, his heavy arm draped over Rachel's shoulders, and she lifts her head to look at his face, puzzled. "You just said something," he says, smiling dopily. "I didn't catch it."

And, for the life of her, Rachel can't recall even speaking. What did she even say? All she can truly recall is the sinking feeling in her gut at the confirmation that Quinn and Sam are now dating.

"Nothing," Rachel forces out, refusing to meet his gaze. "It's not important."

But, it is. She knows it is, based on the way her stomach can't seem to settle throughout the entire Glee lesson. Her eyes keep catching sight of Quinn, whose smile is suddenly so easy, and it burns her to know the smile isn't directed at her. She can't escape the feeling of something squeezing around her heart in her chest.

"I called it, you know?" Finn says at the end of the lesson, and Rachel drags her eyes away from where Sam and Quinn are walking out of the Choir Room with their hands clasped.

"What?"

"Quinn and Sam," Finn says, his smile touching on smug. "Now, Sam has to stay in Glee."

Rachel blinks. "Did you just pimp out your ex-girlfriend to make sure Sam wouldn't leave Glee?" she asks.

He shrugs, as if he sees nothing wrong with it. "We threw the duet competition for the same reason," he points out, and the truth of it makes her feel sick all of a sudden.

They did, and now Quinn and Sam are actually dating. If Rachel were given the option of going back in time to change any outcome, that would be the thing she would alter.

Screw the competition, really.

"What was that?"

Rachel glances at Finn, frowning. "What?"

"You said something again," he says, looking equally confused.

She feels her heart stutter. She's going to have to pay closer to attention to herself. "Oh," she sounds, trying to smile in reassurance. "Nothing."

 

_41 - Castle_

It's a cold day in November when Rachel realises just how rich Quinn actually is. Until now, Rachel has had a vague idea that Quinn is well-off. It's never been in anything Quinn has done or said. She isn't flashy or snobbish, but there's an understated air of superiority that she carries with her.

Rachel thinks Quinn might be rich in her upbringing, elegance personified. Rachel's noticed it more and more, the more time they spend together during Quinn's self-imposed isolation from everything Glee-related, and she's been fascinated by it.

But, on this day, it becomes very clear that Quinn Fabray, all decked out in her punk persona, just _can't_ uphold her _badassery_ enough _not_ to be the type of girl who says please and thank you when spontaneously going out to buy a $4000 electric guitar. Rachel just stares in hapless wonder as Quinn walks into the music store, converses with the skinny sales guy, who keeps tripping over himself at merely the _sight_ of Quinn, and then gets everything she wants. There's an amp, a loop machine thing, some music books, extra picks, a red case, a cleaning kit and so many other things that Quinn just seems to be adding to her bill. It comes out to excess of $8000 in the end, and Quinn doesn't even blink an eye as she produces a red card.

Rachel holds her breath as the transaction goes through, but Quinn barely pays attention. She expects it to go through, and there will be hell to pay if it doesn't, and her blatant uncaring is something Rachel didn't think she would find remotely attractive.

But it is.

On this Quinn especially, who, once everything is settled, insists on carrying her fair share of her spoils out to her car. None of it matches, and Rachel absently wonders if even Quinn knows who she is. They'll figure it out together, Rachel reasons.

"Do you even have space for all of this?" Rachel asks once they're on their way again, Quinn's Beetle filled to such capacity that their school bags are crammed under Rachel's legs.

Quinn just shoots her a look. "You probably don't know this about me, Rachel Berry, but I actually have a music room."

"Oh?"

"And, seeing as you insist on accompanying me on - "

"I had to make sure you didn't steal anything," Rachel interjects.

Quinn laughs out loud. "It's all part of the thrill," she says.

"Because you can obviously afford it," Rachel points out.

Quinn gives her a curious look. "Well, yes," she says. "I have money. I've never really wanted for anything material in my life, save for that time when I got thrown out of my own house." She pauses, looking momentarily stricken at the reminder. "But, I suppose people make the mistake of thinking I _must_ be happy, because I have money. We forget, I guess, that money can't make up for love and happiness. My parents are those types of people."

Rachel audibly swallows. "Why don't you go to private school?" she finds herself asking. "I mean, I'm just curious. I'm sure you could afford it."

Quinn puffs out a breath. "The closest private school that takes girls is in Columbus," she says. "And, honestly, my parents don't really care where we go to school, as long as we produce results and, well, after my sister graduated top of her class, it's kind of expected of me as well."

"And, how is that going?"

Quinn chuckles darkly, but there's an unmistakable sadness in her hazel eyes. "Well, I think we both know I've never really done well with expectations."

 

_42 - Free_

"I think, maybe, I'd like to disappear somewhere."

Like many other times in Rachel's short existence, she knows to pay attention when Quinn starts talking. It barely even matters what she's saying, sometimes. Rachel just knows to listen. There's bound to be something important or profound said, and Rachel doesn't want to miss a moment of it.

Quinn hums to herself. "I can't quite decide if I'd want to disappear into a sea of people, or into the middle of nowhere." She tilts her head back, her eyes slipping closed. "A big city would be nice," she continues, as if she's talking to herself. "Nobody would know me or my story. They wouldn't even _care_ , which can have its advantages, I guess. It would be lonely, maybe, but I think I would really like to be able to start anew. Start afresh, where nobody knows what a horrible human being I've been." She pauses. "Still am, sometimes."

Rachel wants to reach out and touch her, but Quinn's eyes are still closed, and she doesn't think the blonde will react well to a sudden intrusion.

"But, then again, the middle of nowhere can also be lonely, right?" Quinn muses. "Imagine me, Quinn Fabray, living on some farm somewhere, with a chicken coop and my own vegetable garden." She laughs softly, and Rachel is so transfixed. Quinn Fabray has always been able to do this to her, and she has zero complaints. "And, aren't people in the middle of nowhere incredibly nosy?" Quinn suddenly asks, wrinkling her nose adorably. "They'll have nothing better to do than get in my business." She laughs. "I'm so fucked, aren't I?"

And, okay, Rachel definitely shouldn't be reacting this way to the sound of Quinn's swearing. Her heartbeat rises, and her breathing stutters.

"No," she finds herself saying, surprising them both. "No, Quinn," she repeats. "I don't think there's anything wrong with wanting to put yourself first. There's absolutely nothing wrong with wanting to be - " she stops suddenly.

"To be what?"

Rachel smiles sadly, wondering if Quinn really even needs her to say the word.

She does, anyway.

"Free."

Quinn looks a little startled at first, but she eventually smiles. Because Rachel gets it. She understands, and that's all Quinn has ever wanted.

 

_43 - Tiny_

Quinn calls Beth 'Tiny Love' when Rachel first sees them interact, in the middle of their senior year. Things have... settled, and she's just relieved that Shelby is still allowing Quinn to see Beth, even if it's closely supervised by herself - and Rachel, today.

Rachel is here for Quinn, not Shelby, because, God, she just can't get over the kind of mess Shelby has created for all of them when she initially decided on a relationship from afar. Obviously, she needs to brush up on the definition of the word.

Quinn lets out a soft giggle, and Rachel's gaze snaps towards the carpeted floor where Quinn is leaning back with Beth climbing all over her front, absently pulling on her necklace and her hair. Quinn's smile is perfect, full of wonder and affection and so much love, and Rachel reasons Beth is the luckiest little girl in the world.

And, then, Quinn says, "Easy there, Tiny Love; careful near my eyes," and Rachel feels this warmth bloom in her chest that she realises she's been forcing herself to ignore for longer than she cares to admit.

 

_44 - Haircut_

If she's being honest, Rachel doesn't exactly notice at first. Just, once she and Kurt get back to the hotel, they're bombarded with the news of Mr Schuester's imminent departure, and her laser focus is on… well, it's on something that decidedly isn't Quinn Fabray.

So, when she does allow herself to look in Quinn's direction and actually _see_ her, Rachel is unable to explain just what happens to her. Her breath hitches in her throat at the sight of Quinn's shorter hair, but her heart skips several beats at the way the shedding of her hair makes Quinn look... lighter. Less burdened in a way.

Rachel won't delude herself into thinking a haircut can just magically fix everything that seems to be going on inside of Quinn, but she hopes it'll ease whatever demons Quinn is constantly fighting.

Their eyes meet moments later and Rachel is surprised that she doesn't immediately drop her own gaze. It's more of a shock that Quinn doesn't look away either. They just kind of stare at each other across the hotel room for the longest moment, some truth passing between them in a way that makes Rachel equal parts nervous and excited.

Eventually, she moves her own hand to touch her own hair, and then offers Quinn a dorky thumbs-up and awkward smile.

The timid smile she receives in response is so worth the embarrassment she feels moments later.

 

_45 - Gold_

There's something about the way Quinn stares at the engagement ring on Rachel's finger that makes the brunette want to hide it away. It's irrational, she knows, but she gets the impression Quinn would melt it to nothing if she were so inclined. Which, Rachel supposes, Quinn is.

Once upon a time, they used to fight about absolutely nothing: boys and image and popularity and just nothing. Now, when they fight, it's as if Quinn is saying something else entirely and Rachel just doesn't have the correct dictionary to interpret and understand what Quinn is trying to tell her.

"It's not gold," Quinn says when Rachel catches her looking.

"What?"

"Your ring," Quinn says; "it's not gold."

Rachel looks down at the band around the fourth finger of her left hand. "No, it's not," she says. "It's silver."

Quinn looks thoughtful, her expression shifting from… nothing to something. "Oh."

Rachel knows she shouldn't, but she can't help it. "Oh?"

Quinn licks her lips, and then says, "You deserve gold."

They're just three words, relatively tame in respect to the exchanges they've already had, but there's something about these particular words that… almost breaks her. There is so much Quinn is saying in the words _you deserve gold_. She's saying Rachel deserves _more_. She deserves better. She deserves her dreams and her future and her _chance_.

She just deserves _everything_.

"I don't like gold," Rachel finds herself saying, because she _should_ be defending the ring, right? Finn is in high school. He can't be expected to -

She stops that train of thought immediately, because that's just going to be playing into the hands of the nay-sayers. They can do this. They're going to do this, and Rachel sure as hell doesn't need Quinn Fabray's approval.

Quinn tilts her head slightly. "You don't like _yellow_ gold," she says. "It should be white gold." She shakes her head. "It should be platinum."

Rachel deflates. "Quinn," she starts.

Quinn holds up her hands. "No, I'm not starting anything with you," she says. "I'm just saying. You deserve - " she cuts herself off, her eyes flashing with something Rachel doesn't quite recognise. It's pain and something else. Something else Rachel sometimes thinks she would see in her own eyes when in Quinn's presence.

Rachel deserves what?

Whatever it is, she's not so sure she actually does.

 

_46 - Reflection_

There is a blonde girl sitting in the third row of Rachel's first ever class as a high schooler. She's somehow managed to survive the first assembly and homeroom, and now she's set to take on all the academics have to offer. But, there's a blonde girl with deep hazel eyes and a certain air to her that simultaneously draws people in and warns them away. Rachel is still young and hopeful and painfully naïve, so she doesn't really see the red of the cheerleader uniform until she's taken a seat beside the blonde girl, and then it's too late.

Rachel opens her mouth to greet her, but a different voice cuts into the odd silence that seems to have befallen the room.

"You're in my seat, Loser."

Rachel blinks, lifting her gaze to see a Latina girl in a cheerleading uniform glaring down at her with fists on her hips and a scowl to write home about. "Oh," she says, flinching for no other reason than she just knows she's made some kind of enemy and she's barely even spoken a word to her. "I didn't know."

"That's right," the girl snarls. "You didn't know, because you're a loser." She leans forward, almost menacingly. "Now, get lost. We don't associate with the likes of you. Scram!"

Rachel stumbles to her feet, almost tripping over her own bag in her haste, which draws laughter from the other students. Her heart is racing and she looks around desperately for somewhere to sit, but the only seat available is the one directly in front of where the scary cheerleader is going to sit, and Rachel curses her rotten luck.

And the day started out so well.

With a heavy sigh, Rachel settles into her new seat and doesn't even bother to look at the person she's now sitting beside, lest she offend anyone else.

"That's right," she hears the Latina say behind her.

There's a defeated sigh, and then a musical voice says, "You didn't have to be so mean," and Rachel practically melts. "She didn't know."

"I don't care."

There's another huff of breath, but the blonde girl doesn't say anything more. Rachel does catch her looking at her through the reflection in the windows to their right, and the girl offers her an apologetic smile.

It's the last one she gets for more than a year, but it's enough to distract her from the fact the Latina cheerleader doesn't stop kicking her chair throughout the lesson.

 

_47 - Patient_

"I've always been nervous around doctors," Rachel says, feeling the need to fill the silence between her and Quinn in the waiting room at the doctor's offices. Her nose is throbbing unpleasantly and her leg won't sit still. She needs some kind of distraction.

Quinn looks away from the magazine she's clearly pretending to read. "I'm not," she says, and the words are heavy with something unspoken. She clears her throat. "Is there any reason?" she asks, choosing to make conversation. "I mean, did you once have a bad experience with a particularly awful one and now you're ruined for all of eternity?"

Rachel gives it a bit of thought. "Not really," she says. "I mean, my one dad is actually a doctor, so I don't really know why I'm such a nutter about this kind of thing."

Quinn sets the magazine back on the table. "Maybe that's part of it," she says. "I imagine your father took care of all the little things when you were younger, right?"

Rachel nods.

"Then, _he's_ obviously the one who's ruined it for all the others." She smiles to show she's teasing, and Rachel finds herself staring at Quinn's lips instead of... anywhere else. "Still, I don't think it's anything novel to be nervous around doctors. Being anywhere near them normally implies that… something isn't right."

Rachel blinks. "Even in this case?" she asks, her voice sounding smaller than she initially intends. It makes her vulnerable, she realises, but she's putting a kind of trust in Quinn that she's not sure the girl actually deserves at this point.

Quinn studies her intensely, her eyes flitting across the prominent features of Rachel's face. "No," Quinn eventually says. "Not in this case."

Rachel shifts in her seat. "Then, why are we here, Quinn?"

"I don't know, Rachel," Quinn returns, and her tone is heavy again, as if she's answering an entirely different question. "You tell me."

 

_48 - Ignorant_

In another world, Rachel thinks she might have been able to ignore the deep sadness in Quinn's eyes, the same way everyone else seems to. But, then again, Rachel has been very bad at doing what she's supposed to do, and she's definitely not going to start now.

Rachel first notices it their freshmen year, but she doesn't put a name to it until she sees Quinn Fabray, meek and silent, trying to worm her way through the crowds of students who once worshipped her. It tugs harshly on Rachel's heart, and it takes until late in their senior year for Rachel to say, "I would miss you, you know?"

Quinn is busy trying to cram for her AP Biology exam, and it takes her a moment to look away from her notes and give Rachel her full attention. "What?"

"I would miss you," Rachel repeats, carefully reaching for Quinn's left wrist and tracing the pads of her fingers over the feint scars. "If you were gone. If you were suddenly just not here, I would miss you. God, I would miss you so much."

Quinn meets her gaze steadily. "I don't want to go anywhere."

"Then don't."

"I won't."

Rachel risks a tiny smile, absently bringing Quinn's hand up to press a soft kiss to the lines on her skin. "Good."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "Dork," she says, teasing clear in her eyes. "Now, let me get back to work. I might be a delinquent, but I still have colleges to get into."

 

_49 - Consensus_

"Wh - what are you doing?"

Quinn doesn't bother with speaking as she steps even further into Rachel's personal space, forcing the brunette back enough that her shoulder blades make contact with the wall behind her. "What am _I_ doing?" Quinn almost snarls. "What do you mean what am I doing? What are _you_ doing?"

Rachel audibly swallows, her heart racing in a way that she can't quite tell if she's terrified or excited. It's probably a bit of both, particularly when it comes to Quinn Fabray. "Quinn?" she whispers, almost pleading with her to… what? Forget the entire thing. "We can't."

Quinn looks murderous, even as they stand in the school's stairwell. Rachel has managed to avoid Quinn for less than four hours, and now -

"We can't?" Quinn asks haughtily. "What does that even mean, and how dare you say that when _you're_ the one who kissed _me_ and then fucking ran away?"

"I was drunk," are the first words to come out of Rachel's mouth, and Quinn flinches. "It was a mistake," comes rushing out next and Quinn visibly falters, stepping back as if Rachel has just slapped her.

They're suddenly even.

Rachel wants to take the words back immediately, but she can't. She needs to say them, because she's getting married in a few days and the person at the end of the aisle isn't going to be Quinn. It's not. She _was_ drunk, heartsore after a fight with her fathers and with Finn over the thing they're trying so hard to get right. It _was_ a mistake. There's no doubt about that.

"I'm not a cheater, Quinn," Rachel's mouth chooses to say next, and these words are the worst.

Quinn's laugh is dark and ugly, and the expression on her face matches it. "But I am," she says unnecessarily. "I'm the one who's suddenly set out to ruin your life, right? With my dishonourable, cheating ways?"

Rachel reaches out for her, but Quinn steps back scowling.

"You know what, Rachel, fuck you," she hisses, and Rachel makes a strangled sound in the back of her throat. "You make it sound as if _you're_ not the one who came onto _me_ ; who kissed _me_." She shakes her head. "You can blame the alcohol as much as you want, but how else do you explain the last few weeks? Months? Fuck, even years, huh?"

And, really, Rachel doesn't have an excuse for any of it, and they both know it.

"Not a cheater," Quinn scoffs. "That's bullshit and you know it. You're as invested in this clusterfuck as I am." It's an admittance of something - of feelings - and Quinn looks utterly stricken by the time the words are out. "Fuck," she says. "Just, fuck."

Rachel wants to say or do something to soothe her, but she's just going to make it worse and they both know it. "We can't," is what she says.

Quinn sucks in a sharp breath, taking a large step back. "Well, at least we're in agreement about that."

 

_50 - Veteran_

Rachel does her best to ignore Quinn's smirk as she tries for the second - or fifteenth - time to light the cigar she insisted on trying.

"I can do it," Rachel says stubbornly, the second she notices Quinn leaning closer to help. "I can do it," she insists a moment later. "I can."

"Okay," Quinn says, soft but clearly amused. Then: "You know you don't have to do this, right? I'm definitely not asking you to."

"I want to."

"What happened to waxing poetic about how smoke affects your voice?"

"This is a cigar, Quinn," Rachel says, as if it explains everything. "And, I kind of want to share this thing with you."

"We could do something else," Quinn offers. "I mean, it's hurting me to see you attempt to light that thing. I'm really just saving myself."

Rachel looks at her, closely studying the supposed 'Skank' in front of her, and she can't help the warmth that threatens to spread through her chest. Quinn is none of those things people think she is.

She's soft. So, so soft, and she's merely proving it by suggesting they do something else, just after pretending Rachel's presence is an inconvenience.

"Like what?" Rachel finds herself asking. "What else could we be doing?" God. The words come out way too suggestive, and Quinn raises her eyebrows in surprise. Rachel clears her throat. "Something legal, preferably."

Quinn recovers quickly. "Well, that's limiting," she says. "I'm a regular old professional at making questionable decisions."

Rachel sucks in a breath. "Questionable decisions?"

Quinn leans forward slightly, and Rachel doesn't miss the way her eyes glance down at the lips that were holding a cigar just moments before. Her eyes drift away immediately, and Rachel can convince herself she imagined it.

"Quinn," Rachel whispers.

Quinn shifts back, a crease in her brow. "Maybe we should just get some of those vegan donuts you pretend you don't want until I place them in front of you."

Rachel visibly has to shake off the awkwardness of the past few moments. "But, the calories, Quinn," she whines, settling slightly.

Quinn just grins at her. "Live a little."

Rachel does her best to ignore the voice in her head that says, _only when I'm with you._

 

_51 - Water_

Rachel doesn't really anticipate how quickly the Glee meeting gets out of hand but, by their own standards, it happens faster than it ever has before. All she did was make a song suggestion and now everyone is bickering like toddlers fighting over juice cups at recess.

She would describe it as a blood bath and, if she were more dramatic, she would probably claim she can feel the copper liquid gushing out of her open wounds. She can do little more than just stand there and take it, her eyes searching for Finn's, hoping he'll jump in and say something.

But -

"Shut up."

The words aren't even shouted, but the entire Club falls silent immediately. Quinn Fabray might have fallen so far, but she's still Quinn Fabray. Her hair is back to blonde, but there's a certain hardness to her voice and her expression that makes them all pay attention, shifting in their seats, as if they're afraid she's going to go off on them.

"You're acting like five-year-olds," Quinn says, slight exasperation seeping into her tone. "It's giving me a headache. Mr Schue, can you maybe do your job and sort out this mess?"

It takes Mr Schuester a moment, but he eventually takes charge, making decisions that don't really work in Rachel's favour. It's expected that she fight, but a few words mumbled into her ear stop her. She's just so exhausted; raw and bleeding from the tips of daggers and the ends of spears. So, she remains silent, and many people are relieved. Only one is angry, disappointed and confused, which is why Quinn drags her aside when Glee lets out.

"You are not required to set yourself on fire to keep other people warm," Quinn says, and there's a distant tone to her voice that makes Rachel's skin crawl. She hates it when Quinn gets like this; when she acts as if nothing affects her but, really, everything does.

In some of the worst ways.

"That's not what I'm doing," Rachel argues, just because she can.

Quinn rolls her eyes, and she's suddenly engaged in a way that makes Rachel's blood rush through her veins. "Don't even," she scoffs. "You're trying to be some kind of martyr, even though we both know they bullied you into it. Why are you even giving in?"

"I'm trying to be a team player," Rachel says. "I'm trying to be a better co-captain. It's only fair that I give other people a chance."

Quinn's eyes narrow. "Sure," she says skeptically. "Whose words are you parroting?"

"I'm not - "

"Whose?"

Rachel slams her mouth shut.

Quinn huffs out a breath. "Fine," she says, annoyed and disappointed. "Don't come running to me when that boyfriend of yours burns you right into the ground."

Rachel still does, and Quinn helps put out the fire, grumbling all the while and refusing to show how smug she is about it, which Rachel appreciates.

 

_52 - Father_

Rachel finds Quinn in the auditorium, which is where she expects to find her after the intense rehearsals they've just been through for their Regionals competition their senior year. Things have been incredibly tense between them with the engagement and the kiss that was and wasn't, and with Dave Karofsky's suicide attempt.

Rachel isn't sure she'll be welcomed, but she still moves to sit beside Quinn in the fifth row, realising that she really shouldn't say anything.

Quinn is the one to break the silence. "I've gone three birthdays without seeing my father," she says. "I thought that, maybe, I was over it, but I don't think I am." She sighs. "I want to be, obviously, but I can't help it. I - I hate him, Rachel. I hate him so much."

Rachel sucks in a sharp breath, and risks taking hold of Quinn's closest hand. She's just relieved Quinn lets her. "I wish you wouldn't."

Quinn blinks. "Wouldn't what?"

"Hate him."

Quinn stares incredulously at her, disbelief clear in her expression.

"Hear me out," Rachel says, squeezing Quinn's fingers. "You say you hate him, right?"

"Yes."

"And he deserves it, right?"

"Yes."

"Do you think he feels any of your hatred for him?"

That gives Quinn pause, and it takes her moment to conclude, "No, he probably doesn't."

"But you feel all of it," Rachel says. "You feel it all, and you don't deserve that." She shifts closer, her shoulder pressing against Quinn's. "It's time to forgive the man, I think. Not because he deserves it, but because _you_ do."

"It's not that easy," Quinn whispers.

"I know."

Quinn audibly swallows. "Do you forgive Shelby?"

That catches her severely off guard, and the only thing she can think to say is, "I don't hate Shelby."

"Don't you?"

Rachel sighs. "I don't think it's hate," she finally says. "Resentment, maybe. I mean, I can understand not wanting me in her life. I get it, whatever, but - "

"But then she came to Lima, to your school and into your life and space, and it's painfully clear to us all that she didn't come for you."

Rachel clenches her jaw. "I thought I was over it."

"I guess we've both been disillusioned when it comes to our parents," Quinn comments. "They've really fucked us up and they don't even know it."

"We're going to have monstrous therapy bills."

Quinn snorts, delicately. "I already do."

 

_53 - Pause_

"Can we stop fighting, for like four seconds, please?"

Quinn drags her eyes away from the textbook in front of her. "We're not fighting," she says, her voice cold and flat. "We would have to be talking for us to be fighting."

"We're talking."

Quinn sighs. "What do you want?"

"To talk," she says. "I - I miss you."

Quinn's nostrils flare. "What the fuck, Rachel?"

"I'm sorry."

"Stop it," Quinn says. "Just, stop it. God, what do you want from me? Don't you think you've - " she cuts herself off abruptly and scowls deeply. "Didn't think you even knew where the library was, Hudson."

Rachel startles when a heavy hand lands on her shoulder.

Finn ignores her, his attention on Rachel. "My mom wants to know what time you can make it to dinner tonight?" he asks. "She wants to talk about food for the reception."

Rachel does her best not to look at Quinn, but she can't help it. The other girl is stony-faced, her gaze determinedly on her textbook. Rachel sighs. "You couldn't have just texted?" she asks.

Finn frowns. "I wanted to see you," he says, and then smiles dopily. "I wanted to do this." He leans down for a kiss, but, before she can even turn her head to the side to offer her cheek instead, Quinn slams her textbook shut, startling them both.

"Do you mind?" Quinn grinds out. "This is a library. People are trying to study. Or is that a foreign concept to you, Hudson?"

Finn opens his mouth to respond, but Rachel just grabs his wrist and starts to pull him away.

"We're going," she says, and her look back at the sheer ache in Quinn's eyes makes her wish she didn't.

 

_54 - Translate_

"What does that even mean?"

Quinn's eyes light up at the question, and Rachel feels her heart rate rise to a very, very dangerous level. Quinn is dangerous like this; too present in a way that makes Rachel's entire being ache.

Before Quinn can speak, Rachel covers her mouth with her hand. "If you're going to explain, you're not allowed to be smug about it."

Quinn pouts, and Rachel can feel it against her fingers. Oh no. This was a bad idea.

"I need your reassurance," Rachel says, staying the course, despite her thundering heart and questionable thoughts.

Quinn just nods, and then smiles when Rachel removes her hand. "You need my expertise," she practically sings, and Rachel groans. "You need my help."

"Not all of us are Calculus geniuses," Rachel grumbles, impatiently waving a hand over her open notebook.

Quinn shifts closer, and Rachel is hit by a wave of apples and something that smells oddly of cinnamon. She turns her head slightly, and, oh, Quinn is much closer than she initially thought.

Quinn blushes at the compliments, and determinedly doesn't look at Rachel. "I can help," she says. "I actually enjoy this."

"What?"

"Tutoring."

Rachel stares at her for a moment. "That's what you've been doing, isn't it?"

"What?"

"The Tutor Centre," Rachel clarifies. "That's what you do when you're not - " she stops suddenly, flushing in mild horror at what she was about to say.

"With you," Quinn finishes anyway, and then she proceeds to help Rachel with her Calculus worksheet.

And, when she leaves later, Rachel can't help but wonder where it is she's going.

 

_55 - Tongue_

It takes Rachel until Quinn's birthday during her senior year to realise that getting ice cream with Quinn Fabray is a monumentally bad idea. Quinn, thank goodness, doesn't like cones and rather goes for cups, but Quinn is also a girl who knows how to work a spoon like nothing Rachel has ever seen before.

This has been one of those days that she's been looking forward to and dreading at the same time. She made plans with Quinn weeks ago, before the entire engagement explosion, and now they're on some kind of ice cream date before they head over to Puck's house for Quinn's official birthday party.

It's bound to be a night full of booze and loud music and people vying for Quinn's attention, so Rachel is soaking up all the Fabray time she can get while she still can.

Only, Quinn isn't making any of this easy for her.

The moaning also isn't helping.

"I think this is definitely my new favourite flavour," Quinn suddenly says, smiling enough to reveal her pearly whites. Rachel doesn't get many of these smiles lately, given the fact they don't see eye to eye on the teenage wedding situation, so she's going to enjoy every one she can.

She gets the feeling Quinn is beginning to distance herself for the inevitable... end, and Rachel doesn't know what to say to assure her.

Quinn licks her lips, pink tongue poking out, and Rachel stares.

There's nothing else she can do.

"Want to taste?" Quinn asks, holding out her spoon.

Good God.

"It's sorbet," Quinn adds. "No milk, I promise. It's so good."

Rachel can barely breathe as Quinn waves the spoon in front of her face. It's automatic that she leans forward, her eyes dropping to the spoon as Quinn shifts closer.

Rachel tells herself not to think about how this same spoon has been in Quinn's mouth; how it's touched her tongue and felt the scrape of her teeth. She tries so hard, but it's a pointless task.

It's like her brain is screaming at her as her lips close around the spoon and she sucks the ice cream into her mouth. It is good. It's divine, actually, and she closes her eyes as she releases her own pleasurable moan.

Quinn's eyes are dark when Rachel comes back to herself, blushing at her own reaction. They're the darkest hazel Rachel has ever seen.

"Well?" Quinn croaks, and then clears her throat. "Is it amazing or what?"

Rachel blinks. "Or what, all right."

 

_56 - Prediction_

They kiss for the second time in the changing room when Rachel is supposed to be tiring on wedding dresses.

Well, first, they get into another argument about the impending wedding and Quinn follows her into the little cubicle with the intention of attempting to talk sense into her once again.

Somebody has to.

They're in the middle of whisper yelling at each other when they both seem to realise who they are and where they are and just how close to each other they're standing.

The moments that follow are filled with tension, the only sounds their heavy breathing.

Rachel meets Quinn's gaze, and something sparks.

It ignites.

Rachel can't be sure which one of them moves first, but the scant space between them closes in an instant, and their mouths and bodies are suddenly pressed together. Rachel has the fleeting thought that she's spent far too much time waiting to kiss Quinn again.

They shouldn't be doing this.

They absolutely shouldn't.

Rachel barely even recognises herself in this moment, but she can't bring herself to pull herself away. If this happens to be the last time -

Quinn suddenly breaks the kiss and sucks in a sharp breath, her forehead resting against Rachel's while their bodies remain in contact. "Please," she whispers. "Please don't do this. Even if it has nothing to do with me, I won't even..." she trails off, trying a different tactic. "Do this for you. You're meant for more, and we both know it. Everyone knows it."

Rachel closes her eyes, not wanting to hear any of this.

"One day, when you're older, you're going to look back on this moment and know I'm right. That's the simple part. I just want you to be happy and successful, settled and free when that time comes. Not... tied down and forced to compromise. God. You're so young. If Finn's the one, then he'll still be when you're older. If it's really him, then I'll do my best to respect that, but he's not your only option. This town and these people; you are so much more than them."

Rachel doesn't mean to cry, but she does.

"Please," Quinn almost begs. "Please don't make me stand and watch you ruin your life by marrying Finn Hudson."

Rachel doesn't know what to say, so she says nothing.

Quinn reads the silence for what it is, and leaves shortly after telling Rachel she won't be attending the wedding.

She _can't_.

Rachel can't even look at her when she leaves, and the fleeting thought that Quinn is walking out of her life makes her chest twist painfully.

There's a part of her that wants to rush after her, but the stubborn, determined part remains exactly where she is.

 _They_ can't.

 

_57 - Opinion_

It's really a no-brainier for Rachel to seek out Quinn just moments after Finn proposes. She's overwhelmed and a little terrified, and she just knows that being in Quinn's presence will ground her; settle her in way that nobody else can.

She doesn't drop the 'will you marry me?' bomb until she's soaked up as much comfort from the warmth of Quinn's hug. Because they hug now. They hug a lot. For long periods of time.

Rachel won't admit that she has a feeling the ring Finn presented to her is about to change a lot of things, particularly the number of hugs she and Quinn share.

She's not wrong.

Quinn actually thinks Rachel is joking when she finally tells her, and the smile slips from her face when Rachel assures her she's being serious. It falls away completely, only to be replaced by something Rachel can't read.

"You can't," Quinn says, and Rachel has never reacted well to being told what to do. The fact Quinn sounds so certain rubs her the wrong way. She came to Quinn because she needed a level head, and she's getting... a level head.

Quinn says things about getting out of Lima and leaving behind anchors and finding themselves and getting to be free, but all Rachel hears is that Quinn's opinion is different to hers.

Rachel thinks she was always going to say yes, anyway. For the safety; the security. She's already difficult enough, and if she can find someone who's willing to put up with her for the rest of her life... well.

"We should get to Glee," Rachel suddenly cuts in.

"Rachel, wait," Quinn says, and then she's reaching into her bag, and Rachel wonders if Quinn understands this situation far more than Rachel does.

Probably.

Definitely.

 

_58 - Fruit_

Quinn tastes like vodka and cranberry.

It's the single thought that crosses Rachel's mind when she does the unthinkable and drunkenly presses her lips to Quinn's in the middle of a dark hallway at Puck's house. It's just that she's always wondered what Quinn would taste like, and now she knows.

She knows, and she also knows she should pull away and stop this madness.

She doesn't.

It's Quinn's birthday, and Rachel has had to watch people fawn over her all night, their empty compliments making Quinn blush. Rachel wants her time with Quinn, and she finally has it.

Which still doesn't explain why they're kissing.

Still kissing.

Quinn is letting herself be kissed, allowing Rachel to push her up against the wall and have their tongues meet. God. They're making out. Why hasn't Quinn put an end to this? Rachel is drunk, definitely. Quinn is too, surely.

It's the slam of a door that brings an abrupt end to proceedings and they separate quickly, both of them breathing heavily. Quinn's eyes are wide, and Rachel's sure her lip gloss is smudged.

They just kissed.

She just kissed Quinn, and Quinn kissed her back.

Before either of them can even think of something to say, they hear footsteps, and Rachel recognises them as belonging to Finn, and she suddenly feels sick.

She'll blame the alcohol for the fact she bolts into the bathroom and locks the door behind her. All she hears are a few muffled words before she's throwing up, just managing to make it to the toilet bowl in time.

She doesn't move for the rest of night, her mind telling her that this entire night needs not to have happened. She needs to forget it.

She almost succeeds.

 

_59 - Notebook_

"What are you writing?"

Quinn looks momentarily startled, and she immediately closes the notebook in her lap. Her expression settles again, and Rachel is relieved she doesn't look angry or irritated as Rachel approaches. In fact, she just looks resigned.

"Just some random things," Quinn eventually answers, which surprises Rachel, because the two of them haven't had any verbal communication since the day the truth of the baby's father was revealed. "I'm actually brainstorming baby names."

Rachel blinks. "Can - can I hear some?"

Quinn traps her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment, visibly thinking it over. She eventually nods and reopens her notebook. "I'm having a girl, by the way," she says.

Rachel feels a smile spread across her face. "That's amazing, Quinn."

"It kind of is," Quinn says, and her voice is filled with a sense of wonder. "I - I want her to have a strong name, you know? Something to carry with her through her life; something to remind her that, although the circumstances of her birth are... less than ideal, she's always going to be strong and resilient regardless."

Rachel, who is sitting in the chair beside Quinn, gently touches Quinn's forearm. "For what it's worth, I think you would make a great mother."

It's maybe the wrong thing to say, because the light in Quinn's eyes dims significantly. She clears her throat. "One day, maybe," she murmurs, and then scribbles something on the page.

Rachel sneaks a look, and caches sight of Charlotte, Emma, Alexandra, Elizabeth, Taylor -

Quinn sighs, and then closes the book. "Maybe I'll just know when I see her," she muses, and then her expression turns pained. "Do you think they'll let me see her? Will I be able to hold her?"

Rachel has no idea, but she still says, "Of course, Quinn."

Quinn's shoulder sag slightly, almost in relief.

"By the way, I quite like the name Elizabeth," Rachel adds a moment later.

Quinn glances at her, a tiny smile on her face. "Me, too."

 

_60 - Artist_

"I refuse to be a part of this."

Quinn looks over her shoulder at Rachel as she shakes the can of red spray paint with her right hand, revelling in the sound it makes. Even the sheer idea of doing this is giving her such a rush. "Nobody's asking you to be here," Quinn says.

"Somebody has to make sure you don't entirely ruin your chances of securing a decent future, Quinn," Rachel says, her arms crossed over her chest as she looks around again. She's paranoid. Anyone could just walk by and see them, and then what? She's too young to be arrested. At least she's still a minor.

"I don't care about my future," Quinn says, and they both know she's lying.

"Do you care about mine?" Rachel asks.

Quinn looks at her again. "Don't do that," she says, and her tone is tense. "Don't twist this. If I want to fuck up my life, let me. I'm not your responsibility."

"Then, whose responsibility are you?"

"Mine."

Rachel steps towards her. "Please can we just go," she says. "If you want a creative outlet this badly and you refuse to return to Glee, then I'm sure I could find you a canvas somewhere."

Quinn shakes her head, frustrated. "You still don't get it," she says, but she does return the can of spray paint to her duffel bag. "I don't even know why I thought you would."

"Explain it to me," Rachel says, risking placing a hand on Quinn's shoulder. "I told you I want to understand. I want to know. I - " she stops. "This you, Quinn, is still a Quinn I want to know. Help me."

Quinn suddenly turns her body to face Rachel, her gaze intense. She's standing so close, and Rachel has the terrifying thought that Quinn might kiss her.

"It's not about the art, Rachel," she says. "Not for me, at least."

Rachel processes that information for a moment, and then nods, as if she understands. "Let's compromise," she says. "I'll pin a canvas to a wall of some decrepit abandoned building, and you can go crazy with your spray paints to your heart's content. Maybe we'll even be able to keep it for nostalgia's sake."

Quinn regards her carefully, and then a sly smirk spreads across her face. "You mean that crackhouse you sent Sunshine to?"

Rachel gasps dramatically. "That's the last time I try to keep you from committing a felony, if it even is a felony, because I don't even know... a misdemeanour, maybe," she says, stepping back and away, only for Quinn to grab her wrist and keep her in place. "Wha - "

"Thank you," Quinn says, and the words sound heavy enough for Rachel to know she's referring to something else.

Everything else.

 

* * *

 

Santana looks momentarily horrified, before her eyes narrow, features hardening right before Rachel's eyes. "This whole time?" she asks, and the accusation is clear in her voice.

Rachel doesn't rise to meet her. Instead, with a heavy sigh, she says, "I lost everything the first time we kissed. Including myself."

Santana looks affronted for a moment, and then she seems to understand. "It's terrifying when it feels like it can break you."

Rachel thinks she should feel better that Santana seems to understand, but it just makes her feel worse because, God, look at how Santana and Brittany have struggled.

"This whole time?" Santana asks again, disbelief in her voice.

Rachel looks at Quinn's face, her heart aching in her chest. "She smiled at me the day we met. Everything that came after... it didn't really matter in the end."

"Because she smiled at you?" she asks, and she sounds predictably sceptical.

"Not that," Rachel says, her voice far away. "Because she _saw_ me, and she's always really been the only person who does."

 

Quinn wakes six days later, Rachel Berry still holding vigil at her side, looking both awful and hopeful and settled in a way Quinn doesn't recognise.

The first thing the blonde asks is if she's dead, and Rachel lets out an unexpected laugh that turns into unstoppable sobbing.

It takes four hours for Quinn to get settled, the doctors to give her the prognosis, have a breakdown in the worst way, fall into a medicated sleep, and then finally, finally she asks the question.

"Did you..."

Well, she _tries_ to ask the question, but Rachel already knows. She knows the question, and she knows the answer.

Rachel reaches for her hand, squeezing as tightly as she can bear. "No," she says, and her voice is the strongest it's been since she received the call that changed her life. "I didn't."

Quinn blinks. "Are you?"

This answer, Rachel also knows. "No, I'm not," she says, and she gets to her feet so Quinn doesn't have to strain to see her face. "I didn't. I'm not. I'm never going to."

"Oh."

Rachel can't help her smile.

"Never... get married?" Quinn asks, and she looks a little crestfallen. "Like, ever?"

Rachel doesn't want to make this any more serious than it is, so she drops a soft kiss to Quinn's forehead and softly says, "I don't know, Quinn, are you asking?"

Quinn's eyes lose focus for a moment, and Rachel is so, so in love; she hates herself for ever denying either of them this. "Not today," Quinn finally says, and Rachel beams at her.

"That's awfully presumptuous of you, Quinn."

Quinn closes her eyes. "You love me," she murmurs, drugged up and halfway asleep again.

Rachel will tease her about this years from now, loving the flush in pale cheeks whenever it's brought up.

But, for now, she just smooths a hand over matted blonde hair, kisses a damp forehead once again and quietly confesses, "I do. I really, really do."

If Quinn hears her, Rachel doesn't get a response. With a dreamy sigh, she returns to her chair and acknowledges what this moment means. God. Rachel's done it again.

She's managed to fall in love with this blonde girl all over again, and, really, she's already had enough moments to last a lifetime.

 

* * *

_Fin_


End file.
